


I'll Keep You Warm

by DragonHeartstring360



Series: Cullen x Margo Trevelyan [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A little angst, F/M, Fluff, Mentions of family disputes, Pre-Relationship, very vague references to past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 15:19:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13414032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonHeartstring360/pseuds/DragonHeartstring360
Summary: A prank by Sera brings Cullen and the inquisitor closer together in her hour of need.





	I'll Keep You Warm

**Author's Note:**

> Request from a prompt list: 65 "I'll keep you warm" and 93 "Are you cold?" You can send me requests, get updates on my writing and check out stuff about my inquisitors at my Tumblr, @andraste-preserve-us. Thanks for the read and kudos/comments are greatly appreciate. Enjoy!

The wind howled past the arrow catches in Cullen’s office. It was still rather early in the evening, but late enough that the sun had slipped below the horizon, stealing any warmth that might’ve been had with it. He jumped as the door across from his desk suddenly banged open, the wind scattering a stack of reports everywhere. He growled in annoyance, holding back a groan as Sera sauntered over to his desk. “Yes?” he grumbled as he bent to pick up the papers that had fallen on the floor. “Shut the door behind you.”

She ignored him and raced through the door to his left. “Emergency in the tavern!” she screeched as she went by.

Several alarms went off in Cullen’s mind, but then again, it _was_ Sera. She could just as easily be making something up or setting up some sort of prank. When he didn’t move, she returned and snatched his mantle from where he’d slung it over the back of his desk chair. “Inky needs help!”

Cullen’s heart rose to his throat and he raced after her. Not only for his mantle, but the thought of Margo in trouble made his chest feel unbearably tight. Before she’d left for her latest escapade with her party, the anchor had been troubling her more than usual. He’d caught her huddled in a corner of Skyhold multiple times while the mark on her hand popped and sparked, her pretty face twisted in agony. There were probably more than enough people in the Herald’s Rest to help her if that was indeed the problem, but he had to make sure she was all right. Or it might’ve been something else entirely—a breach of security? His mind ran through all the possible—and even impossible—scenarios while he followed the elf across the battlements, down several flights of stairs and into the courtyard.

Several eyes turned to him as he barged into the tavern in a huff. Cullen skidded to a halt. Everything seemed to be perfectly normal; soldiers and several of Margo’s inner circle were mingling and dancing in drunken revelry and Maryden was singing and strumming her lute by the stairs. Margo, however, was nowhere to be seen.

“Ser?” one of the soldiers seated by the door asked. He stared at his commander cautiously.

“Which way did Sera go?” he asked in a huff.

“Um…up the stairs, ser.”

“Thank you.” Cullen pushed through the throngs of people. He caught a glimpse of his mantle and blonde hair whip around the top of the stairs, followed by maniacal laughter. He took the steps two at a time and raced around the corner after her. He sighed in exasperation as he slowed to a halt at the sight before him.

The Inquisitor sat alone in the dimly lit corner nursing a mug with a crumpled piece of paper in her hand. Her brow furrowed until she noticed Sera, who plopped Cullen’s mantle across her shoulders. She glanced back at the fur covering her before looking up and noticing the commander standing a few feet away, panting for breath from his run.

“ _This_ was your emergency?” he growled as Sera turned to leave.

The rogue shrugged. “She needed it.” She turned one last time to give Margo a parting wink. “You’re welcome, Inky.” She cackled as she sprinted past Cullen and back down the stairs.

Cullen sighed, running a hand down his face.

“I’m sorry,” Margo said, finally drawing his attention. “I don’t know what she’s doing—as usual.”

“Why did she say you needed it? Are you cold?” he asked, although he couldn’t help admiring her in his clothes.

Red tinted her pale cheeks and she turned her blue-green eyes down towards the paper laying in front of her, her chestnut hair falling to cover her face. “I mentioned I was a little cold, but I didn’t think she’d steal your mantle.” She started to slip the garment off her shoulders. “Here—”

He shook his head, moving closer. “Keep it. It _is_ a little drafty in this corner.”

She nodded, her brow furrowing once again as she glanced down at the paper in front of her.

“Is everything all right?”

She opened her mouth to reply, then promptly clamped it shut. She huffed a breath through her nose, then, “No.”

Cullen hesitantly sat beside her, scooting closer when she didn’t pull away. The Inquisition had hardly arrived at Skyhold three weeks ago and the two of them had slowly been getting to know each other. Things had been going well between them in Haven, but Cullen had begun to feel something more for the mage and his feelings frightened him. He could listen to her talk for hours and never get bored. Even when there was silence between them, just being in her presence felt comforting. Afraid she only saw a broken Templar and that she deserved better after all she’d been through than a defeated addict, he’d pulled away. Only after the fact had Cassandra and Varric told him how she’d slowly collapsed in on herself up until Haven’s destruction, making him realize he’d abandoned her when she’d needed him most. He’d never felt more ashamed of himself. She was a friend and he’d let her down, like so many others in his life. The _one_ person he couldn’t stand to hurt and her inner circle had confirmed that she hadn’t been herself the past few months. The quiet although funny and kind woman had taken a backseat and an empty, isolated icon had come forward. Ever since they’d found her half-dead in the snow, he’d vowed to be whatever she needed, whenever she needed it. Even if being only friends was torture.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

She took a deep breath and held up the paper. “It’s…a letter from one of my sisters. My oldest brother, Lucan, has always has respiratory problems. Apparently, they’ve been getting worse and the healers have deemed him unfit to help Bann Trevelyan run the estate. So, my oldest sister, Vília, has taken over those duties. I guess the bann is considering approaching the Inquisition for help with Lucan’s condition.”

Cullen frowned. He knew from multiple references Margo had made that she and her family didn’t get along. He hardly listened to rumors, but Margo had confirmed to him that Bann Kedric Trevelyan was in the midst of a long, tedious process of divorcing her mother, Lady Adrea. He knew a few other scandals surrounded the Trevelyan House—particularly on Adrea’s side—but gossip was never an interest for him. “Surely there isn’t anything our healers or mages can do for Lucan that someone closer to Ostwick couldn’t do? Or are they planning on bringing your brother here?”

Margo shook her head. “Lucan’s not allowed to travel in his condition. Rosanne—my sister—thinks Kedric might request we send our best healers to Ostwick or even that I go there.”

“Neither of those things are possible. Our healers are stretched thin enough as it is and your place is here.” He felt the heat rise to his face and was suddenly glad for the darkness of the tavern. “I only mean that…I need—I mean, _we_ need you here—because you’re the inquisitor—and can…close rifts…”

Margo failed to suppress a chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Although it does worry me. Lucan was always kind to me, back in Ostwick…I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. He’s always had trouble with his lungs his entire life. I want to help, but I don’t know what to do anymore than anyone else. When I was younger, I remember mages being sent from the Ostwick Circle to try and help Lucan, but they said since the problem was inner organs, the best they could do was give him potions. Ostwick fell, but maybe I could contact some old friends and see if they remember the recipe…” Her eyes grew distant and sad, making Cullen want to draw her close.

“Whatever you need, you’ll have it.”

She smiled sadly at him. “I just…don’t have good memories of Ostwick. Particularly not from the Trevelyan estate. Kedric was always cruel to both me and my mother. She was always good to me, but…” she clenched her marked hand as the mark began to protest quietly, “she’s…difficult to reach right now.” Her voice cracked on the last word and she turned away.

“I’m sorry,” Cullen said quietly, gently prying her fist open and lacing his fingers with hers. Her long, loose hair obscured her face, but her body was tense beside him. Cullen gently ran his thumb over the back of her hand, wishing he’d forgone his gloves for the evening so he could feel her small palm in his. “You’re worth so much more than how they treated you.” She was the most amazing, wonderful person he’d ever met and mourned the fact that she couldn’t see it for herself. No doubt, the years of mistreatment from her father—who she always referred to by either his name or his title—and from a circle she was a part of previous to Ostwick that was infamous for it’s abuse of mages had stolen her confidence, even if she was good at pretending otherwise in front of everyone else. He wished he could erase all of it for her and shower her with all the unrestrained love and affection that he wanted to. But then, she might not be who she was today—and Cullen loved who she was.

She shivered beside him, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Still cold?” he asked.

She merely nodded, her face still masked by her unruly brown locks.

Without much thought, he let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her fur-clad shoulders. “I’ll keep you warm,” he murmured in her ear.

She finally turned to look at him, her eyes wide and surprised.

He could feel himself blush and cleared his throat. Just as he was about to apologize for being too forward and remove his arm, she leaned her head against his chest. His heart skipped a beat and he _so_ wished he had taken his armor off along with his mantle earlier that evening. But he could still feel her weight pressed against him and he leaned his head against hers. Her hair smelled of citrus and simple shampoo, but he preferred that over expensive perfumes because the smell was _her_. He nuzzled his nose into her soft hair before turning his head. How many times was he going to lose control and embarrass himself in front of her?

She snuggled closer to him and he held her more tightly, just enjoying the quiet of the moment and having her pressed against him. Even if they were never more than friends, he would store this moment away to cherish on his worst nights. Sera cackled on the floor below, paying no heed to the events she’d triggered. But on the floor above, Cole stood in the shadows of his usual haunt and smiled.


End file.
